The Return
by N.K. Svenski
Summary: Kirill was born about thirty-four years after Artyom the Spartan saved the Metro from the tyranny of the Reds, with the help of the Dark Ones, even though no one will ever know about them. The Order still lives on, in control of D6, though slightly weaker than before. Kirill joins an expedition to an unexplored line of the Metro, which is where they find something...unexpected.
1. The Before

**Prologue. Moscow, Russia. 2013.**

"But sir, this cannot be the only option!" Marshal Kovietnik said worriedly.

"We have no choice." The President of the Russian Federation, Visiliy Ashorov, responded.

"Doing it will mean the end of...of everything!" The Marshal argued, desperately.

"We have already sealed our fate. If this is what must happen...then so be it."

"God save us."

It was then, that it happened. The moment it ended. The president pressed that big red button, and it was then that nuclear warheads were fired from all over Russia, among other places. They lit up the sky, in an almost beautiful blaze. It was but seconds after they were fired that people realized what they were, and panicked. Some ran into the Metro, some ran into the Catacombs, and, perhaps, select few were rushed into secret bunkers built in the event of an apocalypse. Religious fanatics stood in the streets, preaching about the end of days as people rushed around.

But none knew that this was just the end of another bloody chapter in the history of mankind, a page being turned. Some would survive, and keep the pages of Mankind turned.

Marshal Kovietnik had calmly walked to his quarters in the top of the Kremlin. He had poured himself a glass of 1945 Jeroboam of Chateau Mouton-Rothschild, a large bottle of wine, which he had bought for $310,700 dollar at an auction a long time ago. It would be the only chance he would get to drink it, for as Russia's own missiles soared, others came to a stop in his homeland.

And so it was. Kovietnik sat down in a chair on his balcony, and watched the world end.


	2. The Stalker

Kirill breathed slowly through his gasmask, and looked upon the once-great city.

He had done it before, of course. Being a veteran Stalker, he had gone to the surface many times before.

But each time, it felt...different, somehow. He could sometimes feel the heat of the blasts when they went off, feel the flash as millions of souls were merely...snuffed. Extinguished in mere seconds. He sometimes thought to himself, "How could anyone do something like that?". It was a good question. It could not be answered, however. Most - if not all - of the people who were alive before the War - World War III, that is - were all dead. Those who were are old, but are regarded with respect, as if they were a monument from a different time - which, now that he thought about it, they were.

It was a long time ago that the bombs fell, and the radiation was mostly gone, but still dangerous enough to kill an unprotected person. He had participated in discussions such as "What if we were to settle on the surface again?". It was a long debate, that one. They had ended with a 'But what about the mutants?'. There were many on the surface, morphed by radiation into hideous creatures that kill humans, and most others, on sight. There were even tales of mutants that were changed by already dangerous creatures - bears, lions, tigers - into unkillable creatures. And then there were tales of the Metro itself, the place where the post-apocalyptic survivors resided in the stations. The people settled there are barely a fraction of their way inside the metro, as it goes deep, deeper than anyone would have thought of. For the Metro... it is not just a place where trains rushed through, bringing people here and there. No, now it is a living, breathing organisms, a living maze, full of dangerous turns, deadly monsters, but most of all...darkness. Darkness was long man's greatest enemy, and in the metro, that is even more true. Darkness is everywhere in the Metro, and it hides many things.

Kirill pulled himself up, and looked at the cement beneath him. He looked at his AK-2012 - a rare weapon in the Metro - and turned back to the entrance/exit of the roof. He was on top of a four-story apartment building, a spot he had come to often. So often, in fact, he had brought small containers with extra ammo and filters for gasmasks, along with a small bit of food, contained in bags. He walked through the doorway, and down the stairs.

Once he got to the second floor, he stopped, and moved through an already-opened door into a wrecked apartment room. Wrecked, because there was a massive hole in the middle, not to mention the various items strewn about the rotting wooden floor. Kirill moved towards the hole, revealing a bridge of long items stacked to make a passage from floor to ground. He moved down, and as he did, the watch on his wrist beeped. He looked at it. Time for a filter change. He unscrewed the one he had on, threw it away, and put on another one. He had about thirty minutes of filters, which was usually enough for a trip. People didn't like to stay on the surface, and for good reason.

And then came one of those reasons. Nosalises. Four-legged beasts mutated from wolves or dogs, most likely. Kirill didn't know, or care. The only reason he need concern himself with them is if they were attacking him, which wouldn't have been a problem had the floor not collapsed beside him. It revealed the area beneath the floorboards, but that wasn't his concern. His concern was the extremely loud noise it made as a bookcase fell to the floor, revealing his location to the nosalises. They roared loudly, and Kirill cursed. It was an entire pack, apparently on the move, but not in so much of a hurry as to ignore the chance for some food. He jumped through the window, and towards the once-working escalators that led to the metro. At the entrance, there were large gates, behind which were soldiers with flamers. He turned, and fired at some of the monsters who were making their way to him. They quickly closed the gap, however, being much faster than humans. Using his lighter, he lit a grenade and threw it at the ground behind him. He jumped forward, to make sure he was far away, as the grenade exploded, but this killed perhaps two, and more moved on.

"Shit, shit, shit." Kirill cursed to himself as he ran. Once he got to the escalator, instead of jumping down the stairs, he slid down the metal column in the middle, and jumped off, rolling infront of the metal door. He banged on it. "OPEN THE DOOR!" He yelled, and turned, firing on the oncoming nosalises. When one got close, he tried to fire, but the gun clicked. "Fuck. Forty bullets, and it had to run out now." He said to himself before rolling out of the way of the creature, landing, and attempting to draw his revolver. The creature was too fast for him, however, leaping on top of him before he could draw his weapon. Kirill struggled against the creature, holding it back with one hand while trying to withdraw his weapon from it's holster. The door opened then, and two heavily armored men holding flamers stepped out. The creature on top of him was surprised, which gave Kirill time to take his revolver, put it under the thing's head, and fire. Needless to say, it didn't survive. Kirill got up, and snatched his AK-2012 from the ground, and jumped through the doors, which closed shortly after.

"Jesus Kirill, are you alright?" Niko, one of the guards who stood at the door, asked him.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, don't worry, just got attacked by a huge pack of nosalises. No worries." Kirill answered sarcastically. He sat down against a wall, breathing heavily.

"I, uh...don't suppose you found anything?"

"No, not before those bastards got to me." Kirill answered. This mission had basically been a failure, though, obviously, it wasn't the first in Kirill's Stalker career.

"Well, you better go get some rest. I heard Kahl was looking for some people to go on an 'expedition'." Niko said to him, patting his shoulder as he walked past.

"Kahl?" Kirill muttered quietly to himself as he got up. He shook his head and sighed, before moving into the somewhat crowded Polis. It was later in the day, though the only indication of such was the Clock of the station. The only people who were out were guards, 'officials', and sometimes Stalkers who were returning from their 'missions'. There were some who went out during the darker times, which was much safer than doing it in the light of the day. Not many people knew that going out in the day was more dangerous than going out in the night. In the night, the larger, more dangerous beasts slept. But in the day, they came out to stretch their legs, but the only reason they knew of this is because of what some of the older Stalkers had seen. It was said that these monsters were indestructible, and could not be killed by any weapon that man possessed.

Kirill held his gasmask in his hand as he walked to his...living space, and had slid his AK-2012 over his shoulder. Most of the people who were out of their homes ignored the armed and armored individual, as they had more important business to attend to. Or they just didn't care at the time.

Once Kirill got to his home, a slightly longer process than opening the door and sitting down was involved. He had a larger home than some of the others, but that extra space was mostly for storage. He put his gasmask on a hook, and lay his weapons, along with their holsters, ammo pouches, and other supplies (throwing knives, claymores, etc.), inside of part of a large 'closet' by his bed. He took off his overlaying armor and hung it up next to the rest. He closed the door, and sat down. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk, and pulled out a large whiskey bottle. It was a treasure he had found during a trip to the library. He took a glass and poured some of the whiskey. He looked at the glass, swished it around, then drank it. He wanted to pour more, but he had to make it last. Whiskey, among other drinks, was a rare treat in the Metro, as most - if not all - was on the surface when the bombs fell. He put the bottle and the glass back the drawer, and took a box from behind them. Opening it revealed a line of eight or so cigars. He had a trader who came around sometimes, and brought him cigars like these. He took one and put the box down. Placing it inbetween his lips, he lit it, and inhaled. He let the tobacco linger in his mouth for a moment before exhaling the fumes into the air. He continued this process until the cigar was fully smoked.

He pulled a book from the bookcase and opened it to the page he was previously on, and sat down on his bed. The title of the book read '_The Metro' _by Dmitri Glukhovsky._  
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><p><strong>Author's Note: Just thought I'd add that little 'easter egg' in there for fun.<strong>

**This might just be a short story, I haven't decided yet. I hope you like it so far.**

**also, sorry for abandoning the other book. I kind of...lost both my train of thought and interest.**

**N.K.S.**


End file.
